


fire for a heart

by pendules



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Backlash 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8021170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: He's earned everything he's ever gotten and he's taken everything they ever said he didn't deserve. He's never let anyone tell him no. And he sure as fucking hell has never let anyone get away with screwing him over — AJ's going to get what's coming to him, God as his fucking witness — but he figures he's allowed at least one moment of self-pity.

  And somehow, at this very moment, at his very lowest, dragged all the way back down to the bottom of the mountain, Seth's is the only voice he wants to hear.





	fire for a heart

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feelings right now.

It would've been all too easy to miss it amongst the long list of condolences and encouragements and stupid fucking platitudes that make him want to break his phone into a million pieces. But it's the only one he _really_ sees as he absently scrolls through; it sticks out like a sore thumb. He does a double-take, and then another, but it's still there, he's not imagining it. Just two words: _great match_. From Seth freaking Rollins. He didn't expect that. Or maybe he expected the least subtle gloating imaginable, if anything at all. This — this is too ambiguous for Seth. Seth doesn't mince words. Seth says what he wants to say, even when he's obviously lying through his teeth. Maybe it's a new, creative kind of fucked-up mindgame — he wouldn't put it past him. It doesn't really feel like that, though. And even if it is, it'll only serve to stoke the fire under his already simmering rage. But either way, it feels more genuine than anything else he's heard or read tonight. 

Because Seth knows. Knows him. Knows that this is a setback, but that's all it is. That the only thing on his mind is how to pick himself up and get back what was taken from him, what's rightfully his. There isn't one quitter's bone in his body, there never has been, he's never in his life backed away from a fight, he's never taken his ball and gone home after a loss, he's always pulled himself back up, by the edge of his fingernails, by the skin of his teeth, again and again and again, no matter how many times he was knocked down. He's earned everything he's ever gotten and he's taken everything they ever said he didn't deserve. He's never let anyone tell him no. And he sure as fucking hell has never let anyone get away with screwing him over — AJ's going to get what's coming to him, God as his fucking witness — but he figures he's allowed at least one moment of self-pity.

And somehow, at this very moment, at his very lowest, dragged all the way back down to the bottom of the mountain, Seth's is the only voice he wants to hear. He thinks about deleting the rest of the messages, but decides to just ignore them, except for tapping out a quick 'thanks brother' in response to Roman's actually heartfelt words. Then, he hits the call button.

Seth answers after one ring, like he's expecting it, but he still sounds startled. "Dean?"

"'Great match'? Really?" he says mockingly, foregoing pleasantries. They know each other too well to waste time with bullshit.

"I was going to say 'sorry' but I figured you wouldn't want any pity. Especially not from me," Seth says, sounding as honest as he's capable of sounding.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean says dryly. "I'm doing enough of that on my own."

" _Dean_ ," Seth says again, more intent now. "I —"

"Why the fuck did you text me at all, though?" Dean cuts him off harshly. He's genuinely curious about his reasons, or whatever fallacy he'll try to fabricate, anyway.

"I just — I wanted you to know I was rooting for you. And I wanted to know if you were alright," Seth says softly.

"Yeah, I believe that," Dean says with a bitter smile.

He hears Seth take a breath before responding. "I don't like seeing you hurt, you know. I never did."

Dean laughs hollowly. "Yeah, because _you_ wouldn't know nothing about hurting me, right —"

Seth lets out a heavy sigh. "I _never_ wanted that. That's the last thing I wanted. I never thought — I never thought you'd take it like that. I never thought I'd be capable — _worthy_ of that."

"I fucking _trusted_ you, you son of a bitch —" His voice cracks, and he hates that Seth can still make him feel like this after all this time. Can strip away all his defenses and reduce him to his most vulnerable self. Can make him feel like a lonely, abandoned child again. Can take him right back to that moment two years ago when his whole world shattered irrevocably with just a few words. It's kind of pathetic, really, that someone who never had any reason to trust anyone his entire life gave all of his trust and love to the one person who would turn it all to poison and dust and ash. And maybe he still hasn't learnt his fucking lesson.

"I know, I _know_. And I never deserved it. Jesus, Dean, your kind of love is dangerous. Self-destructive. It's fucking terrifying and — _too much_. And I never wanted it. Because I knew I'd just fuck it up. Fuck _you_ up."

"Is this when you tell me I'm fucking weak because I think with my heart? Because I _really_ need that right now," he grits out. He's always going to care too fucking much and it's probably always going to be his downfall. He blames himself almost as much as he blames Seth for the pain he'd caused him.

"No, you're not weak, Dean," Seth tells him, his tone almost tender. "I mean, that's why you're here, right? That's why you're going to win back your title."

" _My_ title?" Dean says with a raised eyebrow. "Thought I stole it."

"It was always yours," Seth says quietly. "Since you left with it in Texas. Since before that — since I took that briefcase from you."

Dean swallows hard, wondering if he means it, wondering if it's just him being too fucking trusting once again. Being hopeful. Being stupid. Being _weak_. "Is this —?" Dean asks, voice hoarse. "Are you —?"

"I'm not saying sorry. I know it won't mean shit," Seth says decisively. "Well, I'm sorry you lost. And I'm sorry you ever cared about an asshole like me."

"What about _you_?" Dean asks breathily.

"What?"

"Think you would've given an asshole like _me_ a chance?"

"That was always yours too," Seth says earnestly.

Dean laughs incredulously under his breath. "It's funny, isn't it, how you can go from having everything you ever wanted to having nothing in the matter of a second?"

Seth doesn't say anything for a minute, but Dean knows he understands, in his own way. They've always been more alike than they ever thought.

"What happens now?" Dean murmurs, feeling exhausted and relieved and dazed all at the same time.

"You take back what's yours," Seth says simply.

"Yeah," Dean breathes out. "Yeah."

"I _was_ rooting for you, you know," Seth admits. "Just like the last time. Only less conflicted about it."

"Yeah?" Dean asks, and it feels like they're on the threshold of something significant. Something new, something different, something familiar.

"Yeah, you looked great out there. Gave it your all, like you always do. Left your heart on the mat."

It would sound terribly trite coming from anyone else at any other time, but somehow, it's exactly what he needs to hear right now. "You trying to butter me up, Rollins?"

"Like I'd need to, Ambrose," Seth teases.

Dean smiles a real smile for the first time all night.

"Thanks, anyway."

"No problem, man." He pauses for a moment, like he's contemplating something before just saying, "You should get some rest."

"Yeah, yeah — I'll —"

"I'll see you," Seth tells him, almost like a promise. "Soon, hopefully."

"Yeah, soon," Dean agrees. 

He's looking forward to it. To tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. To that slow, steady trek back up to the summit.


End file.
